


blue christmas

by lyricalprose (fairylights)



Series: 2013 Fic Advent Calendar [16]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 2013 Fic Advent Calendar, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairylights/pseuds/lyricalprose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The waist-high little alien simply rolls its eyes, unmoved, and repeats, “Blue. You said blue.”</p>
<p>The Doctor makes a strangled, inarticulate noise of frustration. “Not. Blue.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	blue christmas

**Author's Note:**

> [amhardinger](http://amhardinger.tumblr.com) asked “Maybe a you said blue/I said not blue in regards to like ornaments or something with 10/Rose?”
> 
> Fill #16 for my [2013 fic advent calendar](http://lyricalprose.tumblr.com/tagged/2013-fic-advent-calendar).

“You said blue.”  
  
“I said _not_ blue,” the Doctor snaps back, glaring down his nose at the little green humanoid. He – or possibly _she_ , Rose isn’t certain – can’t be more than three feet tall, easily dwarfed by the Doctor. The creature, however, doesn’t seem bothered in the least – he’s standing firm, glare of his own in place, small green arms crossed across his chest.  
  
“ _I_ said,” Rose remarks offhandedly, “that you needed to rethink the way you phrased that before we swanned off, and _you_ said ‘it’s fine, it’s fine!’”  
  
The Doctor breaks from the glaring contest in order to give her a deeply wounded look.

“It _should_ have been fine,” he says angrily, turning back to the squat green creature. “It’s a perfectly reasonable, perfectly _logical_ concept – _not_ the blue one!”  
  
The waist-high little alien simply rolls its eyes, unmoved, and repeats, “Blue. You said blue.”  
  
The Doctor makes a strangled, inarticulate noise of frustration. “Not. _Blue._ ”  
  
“I’m not sure what you’re so worked up about,” Rose says mildly, observing the blue object in question. “It’s really rather pretty. I bet she likes it.”  
  
“TARDISes,” the Doctor says indignantly, whipping around to look at Rose, “are not _Christmas trees._ You don’t wrap them up in tinsel, or string them with lights, or, or–” He flaps his hands helplessly, going uncharacteristically speechless as he gazes rather morosely at the ship.  
  
The TARDIS, for her part, expresses no opinion on the fact that she is currently covered in Christmas decorations. There are red-and-green lights wrapped around the blue box from top to bottom, along with shiny gold and silver garlands. The _POLICE BOX_ at the top is outlined in tiny white lights, as is the _PULL TO OPEN_ sign on the door. There are even sprigs of what looks like real mistletoe and holly strung around the top of the box.   
  
“You _did_ park in a Christmas shop, Doctor–“ Rose starts.  
  
“ _Emporium_.” The green creature corrects Rose sharply. “McAdderasky’s Christmas _Emporium_. Goods and accoutrements for any of the ninety-six intergalactic variants of Earth’s most popular exported holiday.” The description sounds as though it’s being read from a script, and Rose is powerfully reminded of how it felt to have to say _Happy Christmas, and thank you for shopping at Henrik’s_ a hundred times a day.  
  
“Of course, we also provide professional decorating services, and _you_ –” The creature points a single accusing finger at the Doctor, a gesture that comes off as more amusing than intimidating given their height difference. “ _You_ parked this blue monstrosity on my decorating floor.”  
  
The alien – Rose would like to address him or her by name, but the green-and-red-spangled name tag it’s wearing appears to display nothing but consonants – waggles its finger and quite literally growls. “You showed me your order form and left _this_ eyesore–” it waves one short green arm in the direction of the TARDIS, “in the decorating department. And now you’re complaining because we did our job and _decorated_ it?”  
  
The Doctor pats at the pocket of his coat, where he’d stowed the psychic paper earlier after waving it in the foreman’s general direction. “Is _that_ what it said?” he wonders out loud, momentarily distracted for a moment before the indignation springs back. “Honestly, though, choice between the Christmas tree and the blue police box and you go for the police box?”  
  
The TARDIS is, in fact, standing next to a bare pine tree of a rather impressive size, and its aggressively decorated exterior makes the tree look a bit sad, in comparison.  
  
“I _asked_ , which one of these is in for decorating?” the alien spits out. “And you just said _blue_ and tore off!”  
  
“I said _not_ blue!”  
  
“ _Blue!_  
  
“I say that this is bloody ridiculous,” Rose remarks – to the TARDIS, mostly, who continues to be the only one in the room completely indifferent to the situation.  
  
In the end, they have to peel the decorations off themselves, piece by piece – every tiny light and bit of plastic garland. The little green alien refuses to do it, and the Doctor insists that they simply can’t pop into the Vortex covered in tinsel and fairy lights.  
  
(Rose saves the mistletoe. She has plans for that, later).


End file.
